


Drowning

by aerena



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerena/pseuds/aerena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air was thick and heavy, pressuring him from all sides. His lungs struggled to keep him alive, his heart beat faster. It wasn't long before his knees gave way, and as he fell, he wondered why he even tried to keep breathing.</p>
<p>It felt like he was never alive from the start after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is made out of sheer impulsiveness in the middle of the night, so there's that. Also, this might turn out pretty dark.

He hated the world.

His first memory was that of a bright hospital room, when he was merely a baby. Opening his eyes for the first time, his cerulean blue orbs caught sight of a brilliant light; he thought then that the world was beautiful. Magnificent. Then he heard chuckling came from a window before him and although he hadn't had the strength to raise his head, a chill ran down his spine. Being the newborn that he was, he didn't know what it meant to feel what he had felt. As time wore on, he eventually learned the meaning behind the chill.

Since then on, he hated  _everything_.

*

Fushimi Saruhiko ran as fast as he could, following the almost maze-like hallways in the mansion. Sweat was trickling down his forehead and his blue eyes were filled with fear. His hands balled into fist as he ran; his legs carrying him as fast as he could, as far away from that man for as long as he could manage. He could feel the muscles burning and to be honest, he wanted to stop; to take just a little break in order to catch his breath, but he wouldn't allow himself to.

Another maniacal laugh echoed through the hallway, followed by footsteps. He turned right and quickly entered the first unlocked door, locking it behind him. The room was quite small and didn't have many furniture except a small round table accompanied by a simple chair, both made from wood and the color was dull with age. A large window was on the far side of the room; the sunlight streaming through it light up the room.

The child took a step back, his breath coming out in pants. Upon stopping from the pursuit, his knees gave way almost immediately and he fell back. His heart pumped his blood so fast, he could hear it. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if his blood came spraying out once his skin is pricked with a needle.

"Sa-" the voice called out and he tensed. The footsteps were getting nearer; his head was spinning so hard he wished he would just blacked out right then and there.

"Ru-" the footsteps were getting even closer now. The voice belonged to an adult. A male to be exact. To be even more precise, a maniac. A lunatic. A crazy person who has no regards whatsoever about a life of another human being.

"Hi-" he held his breath in and scrambled away from the door. He reached the corner on the far right, behind the chair, and hugged his own knees. He tucked his head in, trying to become as small as possible. If he could, he'd disappear. Because anything, really,  _anything_ , would be better than this.

"Ko~" the male voice ended right in front of the door of the room, as well as the footsteps. The child shut his eyes closed, and prayed in his heart for the footsteps to resume again, so the owner of it would leave him alone. "Saruhiko," his eyes snapped open, "are you there?" the voice asked in a singsong voice, laced with underlying malice.

Saruhiko felt like his stomach was being churned in high speed. Tears started to well in his eyes, yet he had enough conscience to try his best to not make a sound at all. After a minute of silence - which seemed to Saruhiko for hours - the footsteps began again. He breathed a sigh of relief.

However, it was shortlived.

The laugh returned; now even more manic and louder than ever. "I know you're in there, you brat!" Banging started on the door and the laughter continued on, "Open up, Monkey!"

"No..." he whimpered, tears starting to flow on his cheeks.

"Oi, Monkey!" a loud sound ensued after the shouting.

"No!" he cried out, "Leave me!"

A moment of silence and then the voice from the other side of the door changed to that of a low growl. "Are you talking back to me?" The loud sounds continued, and the blue-eyed boy realized that it was the sound of kicking. His pursuer was kicking the door down. "How dare you talk back to me?!"

The wooden door got loose from its hinges after several more kicks. Standing in the doorway, clad in a simple white shirt and tight pants with rings on almost every finger and a number of piercings on each ear, Fushimi Niki stood tall. He walked briskly towards the boy, eyebrows drawn to a frown and eyes dangerously dark. He towered over the trembling boy and when he opened his mouth, Saruhiko felt as if a ghost just passed through him.

"Is this the brat who talked back to me?"

"I-I..." he stammered. He was no longer hugging his knees; both of his hands were on the floor, pushing himself away from the man society stamped as his father.

"Who do you think you are?!" the heel of a leather boot hit him in the gut, hard. His air was knocked out of him, and before he had anytime to react, the next one already came again. "You're just a Monkey!" He hunched over and tried his best to protect his head from the attacks. He had learned from his experience that if he were to suffer a damage to his head, after he was healed the attacks would be even worse. At least if it was some place else, the man would be happy enough to leave him for a week or so. Because head injury meant that it couldn't be treated by just everyone, which would mean that a doctor had to be called to the mansion, and Niki hated that.

"You're my plaything," another hard kick on his back which would surely form ugly bruises in the next few hours, "act like it you shit!"

Niki finally stopped and Saruhiko had a glimmer of hope that he would just go away and leave him alone, but his hopes were crushed for the adult grabbed the wooden chair instead and slammed it upon him. He screamed in pain, but the attacks didn't stop. It stretched on and on no matter how he cried and pleaded for it to stop.

By the time that it did stop, Niki dropped the chair atop of his own child and muttered as he left the room, "Fucking little shit."

He opened his eyes slowly after he could no longer heard his father's footsteps. He got some blood on his back and on his arms and legs from the sharp side of the now-broken wooden chair, and bruises everywhere.

His eyes were still glassy, and even though he was still very young, his dark blue eyes was only filled with despair and pain. He curled in on himself, sobbing beneath the chair that Niki dropped purposely on him.

He whispered to no one in particular, "Why can't I just die?"


	2. Chapter 2

He stayed until the sunlight streaming from the window turned from yellow to orange and red. Dried tear streaks decorated his young face; his light skin charred with purplish hue here and there. He didn't want to move, wanted nothing else but to escape from this... this...

This  _nightmare_ called his life. Ironic. People go on with their lives, living it to the fullest as they could to escape their nightmares. He, on the other hand, could only escape into dreams. Into real nightmares which he had on nights when he didn't sleep dreamlessly. He would rather have it than being awake and forced to go on with his life. When he woke up in the middle of the night - sweat pouring, chest heaving - and realized that it was only in his head were the rare times he was washed over with what he would describe as happiness.

He pushed himself off the floor and walked slowly towards his room. He was partly limping - leaning more on his left leg than his right. His head hung low, his bangs covering his eyes; arms wrapped around himself as if the winter wind was blowing. He felt chills seeped through every pores in his body. It was autumn so the temperature had gone down. It wasn't _that_ cold yet, but he lets out a long breath and rubbed his arms up and down.

When he finally got near his room, the young boy could hear the sound of a car revving out in the courtyard. He looked out a window to see his father's sleek black sedan made a turn and skidded off to the distance; the car moved with too much speed and Saruhiko was quite sure that his father would rage out on the road again. Personally, he couldn't care less about his father's dangerous driving.

In fact, if Fushimi Niki could just get into a traffic accident or any kind of accident, he'd be deliriously happy. It probably won't happen soon, but it sure doesn't hurt to hope. Anyway, Saruhiko was happy enough that for the rest of the month he could recover from the beatings. He could lock himself in his room, treating his bruises and tending to his wounds. He may not be alive properly like how a normal six-year-old should be, but he was alive anyway and for the time being - while the source of his misery was gone - he would try to at least  _not_ get suicidal thoughts nor the rest of its likelihood.

*

"Saruhiko."

He looked up from his shoes and looked straight into Fushimi Kisa's eyes. "Mother," he replied emotionlessly. He had grown over the years, becoming taller, though not so much on becoming fatter. He was still thin and he ate less. He avoided contact with his parents as best as he could, growing up to despise both of them. His father for beating him up ever since he was six, and his mother for never caring that her only son was being beat up by her husband. She always claimed that she was too busy. Far too busy managing her company to care or even to simply ask her son how was his day when he got back from school. Too busy to be at home. Too busy to cook him dinner or make him lunch for him to take to school. Too busy to be a mother.

"I'll be going to Paris this evening for work," she adjusted her expensive handbag, "I'll be back in a week or two."

"Hm." he mumbled in response and went straight past her towards his bedroom.

"Money's on the table." He could hear her say, but chose not to reply and shut the door behind him instead. He locked the door in reflex and let his backpack fall to the ground. His elementary school days were coming to an end with graduation coming up fast.

He pondered on whether he should or shouldn't go out and get himself another game with the money his mother left him with. With him being a sociopath, the closest he could get to actually communicating with people - aside from in class when he just  _had_ to talk to others or when he went out to buy stuff - was in games. Although said communication usually don't involve speaking, but at least they played together... sort of.

He got up from his bed and pressed his ear to the door to listen to any sounds from outside of his room. Clear. Saruhiko unlocked the door and pulled it open. Just as he did, the sound of the front door opening reached his ears. He quickly shut the door again with as little noise as he could and turned the lock once more.

"Saruhikoooo!!"

He swallowed. Sweat formed on his forehead. He'd know that voice anywhere.

Fushimi Niki had returned to the mansion.

... Shit.


End file.
